Lapagena
by Eledviel
Summary: Harry wakes up with more memories than a single lifetime could fabricate, Draco may be able to help, if only politics stopped getting in the way. HD Vamp!Fic, set in the end 6th year, does not take HBP into account


_Title:_ Lapagena

_Author:_ Ada

_Summary:_ Harry wakes up with more memories than a single lifetime could fabricate, Draco may be able to help, if only politics stopped getting in the way.

_Notes:_ Vamp!Fic, set in the end 6th year, does not take HBP into account

_Rating: _R

Prologue: Sumacs

Harry Potter descended the staircase slowly, already going through what was going to be taught in Potions that day. Having just come from Care of Magical Creatures, it was an unwelcome change, considering it _was_ a double period with the Slytherins.

Despite the fact that he enjoyed seeing the _brave_ and in his opinion, _inconsiderately reckless_ (though he was one to speak) of his own year (of either house) cowed and uncomfortably tiptoeing their way round the subject (and the Professor), he found it a waste of time when said Professor had to pause mid-lesson to berate an 'inattentive student'. More often than not, said student referred to him.

He was going through the steps for the brewing of the Wolfsbane potion, when a sudden feeling struck him in the chest, and it sent him reeling, losing his balance and falling… as if from far away, he heard the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, but also, echoingly, the crack when his head met said stone floor as well.

He dreamt.

In his dream, there was no semblance of time or space- it was like being in the middle of a whirlpool- a mental, mind-deluging torrent of memories that grew in his head.

Here, he was without control- he found himself knowing things, though he had no clue as to what was happening to him. The knowledge seemed to continue to pour into him, and he never seemed to fill, either. Memories came unbidden, and although they flashed past in what seemed like the speed of light, he _knew _them- he knew the faces, he recognized the languages, he knew which memories associated with what.

The knowledge seemed to stretch out for eons and eras in his mind. Centuries worth of information, all crammed into him- he knew what it was like, to watch the human race- both muggle and wizard- advance and grow throughout the ages.

He was there, when the first Ulfric amassed the lycanthrope troops in a war against the vampires, when said war ended, when Grindelwald conquered both. He knew, as if he was _right there_, how none other than a younger Albus Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald. He was there, too, when Voldemort rose to power, and when the Dark Lord fell for the first time.

Up till the ages… he knew, he saw, he breathed, and he felt… He _remembered_…

But he knew something was wrong.

How could he remember, if he wasn't alive yet?

This wasn't him. At first, he pushed the thought away; he slashed at it violently, and went back to mulling over and examining this development.

However, the same thought kept on repeating itself in his head, and finally, his body seemed to spasm, as he fought against the current of- for lack of better word- _life_ that was surrounding him, and swallowing him.

The whirlpool rippled, like jelly when you struck it with a spoon.

And through the memories/life/water, for a brief moment where it broke, he saw a hand. Once more, he struggled- the liquid's continuous stream broke once more, and the hand broke through before it weaved shut.

Followed by that hand, was a bare arm, and then a pale shoulder- soon, the entire upper body of Draco Malfoy was through the hole, and he was holding out both his arms to Harry as the whirlpool continued spinning and turning like an image superimposed on jell-o.

His mouth was moving, his face held an expression he'd never seen before. He couldn't place it, but by the way he was waving his hands out, and stretching towards Harry, he understood that Dra- Malfoy was only trying to help.

And he didn't know _why_, but he felt that his newfound knowledge didn't have anything to do with the fact that he trusted Draco Malfoy. With that thought, he reached out, and one of his hands caught the blond's.

He looked up, and found himself smiling back to his saviour.

With a mighty tug, he was out of the whirlpool, and he resurfaced- as if taking a deep breath- in the land of the living.

To the nervous onlookers, both boys who were lying deathly still one moment came back to life within another. Simultaneously, both took in gasps of air.

When they regained their bearings, it was as if the others weren't there. Blood was dripping out the corner of Draco's mouth, and his face was deathly pale. Though at the beginning, it was he who had latched on to Harry's hand, now, it was returned, and his hand was held in a white-knuckled grip. He didn't know whether to wince or to be thankful that his shaking was being concealed.

His worrying proved moot, however, when the hand on which he had been pillowing his head extended- showing the trembling- to cup Harry's warm cheek.

Harry leant into the hand, and found himself giving a small grin in reply to the honest smile on Draco's face. Though some (insignificant) part of him was screaming that this was MALFOY, he managed to free his other hand from the blankets, and moved to pull the blond closer.

However, before he could do so, the young man half-lying next to him was out like a light. First, there was concern, but a voice told him that he was fine; _then_, and only then, did he realise, that there was a roomful of people watching them closely, all full of unvoiced questions.

End Sumacs/

Postscript: Well, hey! This is my first piece of fanfiction… In a very, very, VERY long time. The last one was EONS back, when I was 1112 and Mary-Sues were rampant in my head. ) I hope this will be a vast improvement compared to those (fortunately) unpublished works.

I know this is pretty short- but it's simply a prologue that I wish to kick off the ground with. Hopefully, it's caught your interest.

If you've read this far, I thank you for taking time to do so. If you comment or review or criticise the piece, however, I will be even more so. I welcome any attempts at helping me improve.

Thanks again,

Ada


End file.
